


Keep Dreaming

by cesau



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Humor, M/M, Pre-Slash, mentions of one-sided Leon/Valbar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 04:23:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13651365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cesau/pseuds/cesau
Summary: Kamui is totally Leon's ideal man. He just hasn't realized it yet.





	Keep Dreaming

“What do you think makes a good man?”

It's not the start, but it's close to it, and it's as good a place as any.

Leon looks at Kamui and scowls. Maybe he's thinking the battlefield is a poor place for conversation, maybe he's just putting on airs. At this point, fighting Terrors in Rigelian swamps is second nature to them both, and Kamui wants a distraction from the rote monotony of it all—Leon never bores him.

“Haven't we been over this before?” Leon says, punctuating his offense with a long-suffering sigh. He shoots down a passing gargoyle, scowls again at Kamui's appreciative whistle, then adds, “And why do you even want to know?”

Why _does_ Kamui want to know? It's some kind of needling curiosity that's been itching at him since the first time he heard the whole spiel about Leon's perfect guy. When Kamui had wisely pointed out that no one could possibly meet those high standards, Leon had gone and thrown Valbar's name into the mix—and that's where's Kamui's lost. His confusion stems from simple the fact that Valbar hadn't even come to mind when he heard the terms, but Leon's totally gone on him anyway. So either Leon's fooling himself with those parameters, or there's something else to the story that Kamui's not seeing.

The more he thinks on it, the more he decides Leon's impossible standards are so vague as to encompass _anyone_ , if you wanted to stretch the definition, and Kamui intends to prove it. (Without Leon catching on, of course—that would defeat the whole purpose.)

But first things first: he's gotta know what he's proving.

“Gotta pass the time somehow,” Kamui says. “Humor me.”

“No, I don't think I will,” Leon replies, turning away, but not before making a show of rolling his eyes.

Well, that's fine. Kamui's pretty sure he remembers most of it anyway. Something like: kind, strong, and honest, and paradoxically boyish and mature at the same time, but Kamui will worry about that one later.

So: kind, strong, honest. Yea, he can work with that.

**Kindness**

Kamui thinks the fact that he didn't ditch Valbar and Leon for breach of contract the moment they merged with Celica's army is pretty representative of his kindness, but he recognizes Leon probably doesn't see it that way. In Leon's world, following Valbar is some sort of higher calling all its own. For all he knows, Leon thinks it's a kindness on Valbar's part that he's _letting_ him stay.

Anyway, what it boils down to is that he'll have to figure something else out to prove he's got a touch of niceness to him. It seems to him the safest place to start is in trying to pinpoint exactly what Valbar did to earn that distinction, assuming he did any one thing at all. (This is the one part of Leon's spiel Kamui _won't_ argue with—Valbar is nothing if not good-hearted and it shows in all his actions, but Kamui can't discount the possibility that there's something specific there to have triggered Leon's starry-eyed devotion.)

Lucky for him, Leon's favorite topic of conversation is Valbar, and it isn't long before Kamui's heard the story of how the two of them met. What he takes away from it is that Valbar's kindness, so far as Leon's concerned, is based on his comforting the guy when he was hurting. (It's a simpler explanation than Kamui expected, and for once, he sort of understands where Leon's coming from with all this fawning.) 

Nurture isn't exactly second nature to Kamui, but he's sure he can figure it out. And fortunately for him, he knows Leon will give him plenty of opportunities to perfect the art—Leon may not be hurting now, exactly, but for all he loves to complain, there's always _something_ wrong.

He proves Kamui's theory right the next day as the army continues its march through the muddy swamps of Rigel, and not even an hour in, while Kamui's puzzling over how the murky water managed to sneak its way to his feet past thick boots and two pairs of socks, Leon starts mumbling under his breath about the air and the stench and all the ways their current surroundings are inconveniencing him, personally. Cold toes forgotten, Kamui sees his opening and dives in, sidling up next to Leon as unassuming as he knows how.

“What's eating you?” Kamui asks.

Leon is gracious enough to turn to face Kamui before he pulls a face, looking about as offended as he ever does when Kamui decides to approach him. (The look's gotten so familiar, Kamui's started to regard it as sort of a greeting all his own, and it's almost comforting. He's not sure which of these facts should worry him more.)

“Oh, it's you,” Leon mutters.

“It's me,” Kamui agrees.

“What do you want, Kamui?” So Leon's unimpressed—but then again, he always is.

“Just checking in,” Kamui says. “You're not looking so hot there.”

“It's this damned swamp,” Leon says with a scowl, looking off to the distance as he brings his fingers up to brush a loose lock of hair out of his face. It's actually a little weird, having a conversation with him where he directs his irritation at something _other_ than Kamui. “Do you have any idea how long it takes to style my hair every morning? No? Well, let me tell you: a lot longer than it takes this humidity to mess it all up! Ugh, I can actually _feel_ it falling out place and frizzing up. It's awful!”

On closer inspection, his hair looks...exactly the same as it always does. So does everything else about him, but Leon's pretty vain about his appearance: if he's not worrying about his hair, it's his skin, or his nails, or his makeup. When he thinks it's all good, he'll crow like a damned rooster. But if he finds even the smallest blemish, he'll cluck like a hen.

Kamui's never understood that; Leon at his worst still looks better than most men at their best, and Kamui's pretty sure he knows it, too. More than that, he's really not sure why it matters in the first place.

“You think anyone's looking at your hair?” Kamui says.

That earns him a spiteful enough glare that he doesn't even have to wonder if it was a stupid thing to say. Kamui's used to apathy and even irritation from Leon, but he thinks the look he's getting now might be genuine anger...which is sort of the opposite of what he was going for.

“Why are you talking to me again?” Leon says.

“Didn't mean to cause offense,” Kamui says, bringing up his hands in the universal sign of surrender. He wonders if it's worth attempting to salvage the conversation, but he's already started, so he may as well give it a shot. “Just seems like a funny thing to worry about, in a place like this. We're in the middle of enemy territory, wide open to ambush, and you're worried about your hair? Not Rigelians, or mogalls, or—”

“Or necrodragons?” Leon interjects gleefully.

“—Or necrodragons, sure,” Kamui allows. He figures he can let Leon get away with that, if the comment about his hair really bothered him that much. “You're more worried about the way you look than any of _that_?”

“I can't control what anyone _else_ does, Kamui,” Leon says, as condescendingly as possible, like he's dispensing some sage advice. The only giveaway it's not his intention is the playful smirk on his face—and that right there is the thing that keeps drawing Kamui in. Leon's got a sense of humor like no one else, sarcastic and biting and endlessly entertaining.

...He also thinks way too much about pointless things, Kamui decides as Leon goes back to tugging at his hair and sighing loudly.

“Knock it off; that's distracting,” Kamui says. In a stroke of brilliance, he adds, “Anyway, far as looks go, you still put the rest of us to shame. A little humidity's not gonna change that.”

That definitely counts as a compliment—a kindness—and Kamui's feeling pretty damn pleased with himself, even if Leon looks strangely unimpressed, muttering something along the lines of, “What would _you_ know about looking good?”

Well, whatever. He's proved his point, and that means he can move on to the next item on the list.

**Strength**

Strength is easy. Kamui's spent the better part of his life fighting, and before that, it was all manual labor anyway, so he's no slouch. Valbar's a fine shield, but it's Kamui who tears ahead through the enemy ranks when the three of them fight as one unit, so it's Kamui who claims the most kills.

Still, when Valbar's around, anyone else presents a bit of a blind spot for Leon, so it doesn't take long for Kamui to realize the battlefield isn't the best place for him to show off. Then he's got the problem of trying to figure out just when and where he's supposed to demonstrate his abilities to Leon, and all of his ideas come up short.

He actually makes a show of hefting around supplies for Celica for a few days, carting boxes back and forth between camp and caravan, but on the one occasion Leon catches wind of it, all the guy has to say is that Kamui'd better be careful not to drop anything because there are important provisions in there, so that's another no-go. (Kamui helps Celica out a little while longer, anyway, just because it seems kind of cruel to take off on the kid without warning.)

He's still working out the details in his mind when a battle breaks out later in the week, and it's all running through his head even as his body naturally slides back into the motions of swordplay. Dodge here, swing there—there's not a lot to it at this point, after so many years of repetition. The only time he really snaps out of the automation of it is when something goes wrong.

And today, for the first time in a long time, something goes wrong.

They're still trudging through the swamps of eastern Rigel, an exercise they've been at for a couple of weeks now. Nearing the end of them, even, if those brief glimpses of green on the horizon are anything to go by, and maybe that's why everyone gets a little complacent. They're not caught completely off-guard when the Terrors show up, but this battle is lacking in the urgency of its forebears, and when Celica's army splits off into formation, it's with a sort of grudging acceptance that fighting the undead has somehow become commonplace for them.

Kamui finds Valbar and Leon easy enough—he never strays far during marches, anyway—and they set up the same as always, forming a squad of their own at the left flank of the army. At a safe distance, Valbar can draw in the approaching undead, Leon can pick them off from the cover he provides, and Kamui can run through the stragglers.

The way it works, Leon's usually got the best view of the battlefield from the rear, and he'll shout out a warning or direction if the situation warrants. He can cover all three of them well enough, but purely by instinct, Kamui has a habit of stopping every now and again to take in his own surroundings. He's never seen anything that's escaped Leon's eyes before, but old habits are hard to break (and since this trio situation isn't supposed to be permanent anyway, he can't say he's ever really tried to unlearn it).

But in the middle of the battle, he stops, and that's when things go wrong, because for the first time, he catches something Leon's missed.

It's not really Leon's fault, either; the way their formation works, he should have the whole of the army at his back. But there's a sudden break in the ranks there—and in the opening, a gargoyle's made its way through, scythe at the ready and headed straight for the open back of an archer who still hasn't noticed the trouble behind him. Kamui shouts a warning, but the din of the battle's too loud, and Leon doesn't so much as turn his head.

Kamui has to think fast, and he's lucky enough that he's quick on his feet.

The way he sees it, he can make it to Leon in time, but the gargoyle's already poised for the attack, the ground is slippery, and Kamui doesn't trust he'll get his footing right if he tries to jump in and parry its strike. Even as he's running toward Leon, Kamui's thinking up a new plan, and seconds before he makes contact it turns into this deceptively simple thing: he'll just grab Leon and run.

His timing is actually kind of perfect—the gargoyle swoops down and Kamui swoops in, grabs Leon around the waist, throws him over his shoulder, and bolts out of range just quick enough that the curve of the monster's scythe hooks and pulls out ground, instead of guts.

His plan seems like a good idea, too—until the moment passes, the adrenaline fades, and he's still got Leon in his arms, and then somewhere by his ear he hears the man growl darkly, “Put me down, right now.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Kamui says, obliging. Leon sweeps his hands over the leg of his pants like he was just rolling around in something particularly foul, and in a brush of absent-minded stupidity, Kamui notes, “Y'know, you weigh more than I expected.”

On the one hand, Leon doesn't talk to him for the rest of the day. On the other, Kamui shouldered his weight like it was nothing...and that's a pretty impressive display of strength.

**Honesty**

Honesty is tricky.

See, Kamui's not a _dishonest_ guy, but he maybe has a bit of trouble expressing himself sometimes. Just a little, really, nothing huge.

The _issue_ , if you can even call it that, is that he likes to keep things light. Kamui's never been willing to let anything weigh him down, let alone something as transient as a thought, so he's never been one to think too deeply about what he's doing or why. He follows his instincts and does as he pleases most of the time, and when it comes to explaining—well, it's been a long time since he's had anyone to answer to.

Leon wants honesty, though, and Kamui's got to give him something; he just doesn't know what that something is. After a kind of embarrassing amount of thinking, he decides it's gotta be something he wouldn't otherwise want to talk about, something he's never told anybody else, and that narrows it down some.

In the end, the thing he talks about the least is his past. Dwelling on where he came from and the people he's left behind has never been his style, and all it ever seems to do is dredge up a load of feelings he thought he meant to leave behind him years ago. In a twisted sort of way, he recognizes the significance of sharing something like that. All the same, he doesn't know where to start. 

It's a few weeks later, while the army's stopped in a northern Rigelian town for the night, that an opportunity presents itself. Once everyone's settled down, they all go their separate ways. Valbar and Leon head off to the tavern for dinner, and Kamui joins them (with only minimal grumbling from Leon, because Valbar's the one who invited him in the first place, and Leon doesn't have it in him to contradict Valbar).

They gather at their own table and enjoy a good meal, and as soon as it's done, Valbar excuses himself, and then it's just Leon and Kamui. To Kamui's surprise, Leon deigns to stick around a while longer. He orders himself another drink and doesn't look surprised or annoyed when Kamui does the same. Then, because Kamui's never been able to keep his mouth shut, he has to question it.

“Congratulations, you're not _completely_ intolerable,” Leon says in response to the inquiry. He looks around, bored, and shrugs. “Besides, I'd look like a fool, drinking alone.”

“So you're just keeping up appearances, huh?” Kamui says.

“Appearances matter, Kamui.” Leon sighs and gives him a look that seems to say he's a lost cause. “Or they do to most people, anyway—you, on the other hand, 'don't give a damn' what anyone thinks of you, was that it?”

“Never have before; don't see why I should start now,” Kamui says proudly.

Leon snorts, and it's probably the least dignified thing Kamui's ever seen from him, aside from the constant complaining. “Please,” Leon says, “you mean to tell me you've always been this obnoxious? What, did you just fall out of the womb with that stupid smile on your face? Your poor mother.”

“Y'know, she never seemed to mind.” It's the sort of vague, noncommittal answer Kamui's used to giving whenever his past creeps up on him, and he's ready to step to the side and let it pass. But then he remembers that this is what he's been waiting for: an uncomfortable admission. Entirely by accident, Kamui realizes he's stumbled into the perfect opening, and he seizes the chance. “Besides, I didn't really smile all that much when I was kid. I told you about moving from the plains to the city, yea? Wasn't a great time. Me and my family, we stuck out like sore thumbs, and the city folk sure as hell noticed. You know what that's like, when people turn on you just for being different?”

Leon stares at him blankly for what feels like a very long time. It's kind of stupid, but Kamui's already embarrassed. He has to quell a brief moment of panic that he's somehow managed to screw up this honesty thing already, and he's been trying for less than a minute.

“For being different?” Leon finally says. “No, I have no idea what that feels like. _My_ childhood was all sunshine and daisies, after all. No one had a single thing to say about the boy who spent his time chasing after other boys.”

Oh, Kamui realizes, and the blank stare makes a lot more sense now. _Oh._

“Okay, that was a dumb question,” Kamui admits. And now that it's been brought up, his own childhood foibles seem almost offensively insignificant. He had a few rough years, but he outgrew the mockery, and then he left it behind him; the thing that sets Leon apart isn't something that'll be outgrown, and he obviously has no intention of running from it. Ignoring the fact that Leon's disinterest in women has never seemed all that strange to a foreigner like himself, Kamui knows folks in mainland Valentia can be strange about that sort of thing—but he has a tendency to forget, and he says as much.

For possibly the first time ever, Leon looks at him with interest.

“Is it really that different where you're from?” he asks.

“On the plains, everyone kind of kept to their own tribe, and so long as you pulled your weight and didn't step on anybody's toes, nobody really gave a damn what else you got up to,” Kamui explains. “That—what'd you call it? 'Boys chasing other boys'—it wouldn't have turned a lot of heads out there. It could have been different once we got to the city—but by then, everyone was so focused on making money, guess I just never noticed.”

“Maybe I belong out on the plains,” Leon says with a dreamy sigh. The thought of it stirs something uncomfortable in Kamui, draws up an image of past interposed with present he'd just as soon forget, a sort of twofold strike of things he can't have. He shakes the feeling off and masks it with an easy grin.

“Depends on how you feel about sheep,” he replies.

“I can't say I'm fond of the smell, but at least they're cute,” Leon says. “I could figure it out.”

“Not a lot of mirrors out there, either,” Kamui points out. “It'd be pretty hard to keep up your image. You think a little humidity's bad? Try outlasting the whole rainy season.”

Leon scoffs, waves his hand like he's dismissing the very idea from his presence. “What sort of amateur do you take me for? I'd find a way to make do.”

Kamui grins. “Lot of folks just like me out there, too. You sure you could handle that?”

“There's always a catch.” Leon says it almost fondly, with a kind of calm smile Kamui can't recall ever having seen on him before. He also hasn't told Kamui to get lost yet, so this is probably progress.

Actually, as the moments pass and Leon continues to sit there with his quiet smile, Kamui starts to feel sort of awkward—this is new. In the absence of Leon's expected insults, he's not sure whether he's supposed to stay or go or say something. (That coil in his stomach is lingering uneasiness, not happiness, he tells himself.) He's spared from thinking about it any more when Leon pipes up again.

“Anyway, what were you getting at before?” he asks.

“Huh?” Kamui says, pulled out of his troublesome thoughts. “Before...?”

“When you started rambling about your oh-so-terrible childhood,” Leon says airily. “What were you trying to say, anyway?”

“Oh.” Again, Kamui considers his past and what he figures Leon went through, and it suddenly doesn't sound like such a good idea. He'd rather just drop the whole thing (and he _is_ distantly aware of a pattern he might be falling into, here, but he's happy to ignore it). “I don't think I said anything about terrible—just, it was rough-going for a little while. Not a whole lot more to say than that, I guess.”

“Rough-going,” Leon repeats skeptically. “I'm trying to imagine a small version of you getting picked on and I just—” He shakes his head. “What was it about, anyway?”

What was it about? His hair, his eyes, his accent, his clothes—hell, thinking back, what _hadn't_ it been about? But he'd learned to grin and bear it, eventually, and then to bury it—and he won't dig it up now, not even for Leon and his sudden interest. Kamui shrugs and says, “Far as I can tell, that sort never really needs a reason.”

“Hear, hear,” Leon says, and he raises his glass and grins—and that smile is the real deal, not mocking or teasing, just open and bright and Kamui's not sure even Valbar's gotten that one. Through his surprise, Kamui lifts his own glass in return and thinks, well, maybe he didn't do exactly what he meant to here, but this feels about as honest as he's ever been.

“Hear, hear,” he says.

**Boyishness and Maturity**

It isn't long after that Celica runs into her phantom brother, who leads them all on a trek through some eerie, fog-covered forest that Kamui knows is bad news before they've even stepped inside. Once they have, the way ahead is mostly quiet and clear, but somehow that feels more suspicious than relaxing. 

He's not the only one on edge, either: the kids from Novis won't stop jumping at shadows; the usually chatty mercenary they picked up in the desert is suddenly mute; the Archanean sisters take to the skies right from the start and refuse to descend any lower than the treetops unless specifically called for.

Kamui sticks to Valbar and Leon, and the three of them spend most of their time shooting wary glances at the surrounding trees. Kamui knows this quiet is unnatural; they're all just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The crash finally comes just before sundown as they're setting up camp. Kamui is off gathering kindling at the edge of the clearing they've taken over, just leaning down to grab at a branch when a distant, painfully familiar roar shatters the silence. His knees almost give out and his heart is racing when he chances, “Was that a necrodragon?”

He looks back to find the others already reaching for their weapons, but there's a soft shout and then Conrad motions for them to stop, staring at the sky like he's waiting for the damn thing to swoop down and offer a friendly hello. After a few long moments of silence, he sighs and smiles apologetically.

“More likely a wyvern,” Conrad says with a scholarly fascination that Kamui finds kind of offensive. “There aren't very many of them here, but I've heard tell of a nest out this way. I never thought it to be true; it's actually quite remarkable to hear one in person!”

“Remarkable,” Kamui repeats breathlessly, still crouched to the ground because he's not actually sure his legs will hold if he stands. “Right.” He's never seen a wyvern, but he's seen—and heard—at least half a dozen necrodragons since they crossed the border, and he's not so sure he trusts Conrad's assessment about this one. Not feeling all that reassured, once he's finally got his bearings, he wanders back to Valbar and Leon, who apparently got tired of waiting for him and built their own fire in his absence. Leon takes one look at him and rolls his eyes.

“Oh, don't be such a baby,” Leon says. “So what if it's a necrodragon? It's not like you haven't fought them before.”

“Yea, when I could _see_ them,” Kamui mutters. But Leon's got a point, he figures, and worrying won't do him any good. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, and then he gets ready to settle down for the night. So long as he doesn't think about it, he figures, he might even sleep.

That confidence lasts about two minutes.

Then there's a sudden rush of wings overhead, way too close and Kamui can actually _feel_ the gust of wind brushing over his scalp even as whatever's up there lets out another bone-chilling shriek. Kamui can't help the shriek that escapes his own throat in turn. The thing passes by and Kamui just about passes out, and that's the last they see of the monster that was possibly a wyvern, probably a necrodragon, and definitely a terror either way.

They're lost in the treescape for another two days, but it's not so creepy anymore because for the whole of it, Leon can't look Kamui's way without bursting into laughter. Kamui thinks it's kind of unfair, because his fear is totally justified, but he consoles himself with the realization that there was definitely some mention of childishness in between all the laughing, so he can mark that quality off his checklist.

On that note, Kamui also decides to be the bigger man and let Leon laugh it up without protest (partly because his pride can't really be wounded any further at this point). He thinks that's a pretty mature course of action, all things considered.

And just like that, he's hit the paradox.

**Perfection**

As the group approaches Duma Tower, Kamui turns the last weeks over in his mind and realizes he's accomplished all he set out to do. Kind, strong, honest, boyish, and mature: that's Leon's ideal, and Kamui can now say he's every one of those things—which means Kamui is right, and Leon's standards are just as arbitrary as he's always thought.

Leon isn't exactly impressed when Kamui explains all of this to him.

“ _That's_ what this is about?” Leon says, sounding kind of exasperated, though Kamui can't figure why. “I was wondering, but you've been stalking me for two weeks now just so you could attempt to hit on me in the most roundabout way possible?" He pauses, makes a face. Adds, "You're terrible at it, by the way.”

“What? No, I'm proving a point,” Kamui says.

“Really? That's all there is to it? So you're not at all attracted to me?”

Well, Kamui doesn't really see how _that's_ relevant. “Don't get ahead of yourself.”

“Mila help me, this is ridiculous—” Leon begins, and then he stops and shakes his head. “Alright, fine,” he says. “If it helps, Kamui...we'll say you're about _half_ the man Valbar is. How about that?”

“I told you, that's not—” But Leon is already gone. Kamui sighs. He considers. When it comes right down to it, Valbar is practically a god to Leon. Half of that?

It's actually not that bad. And anyway, perfection is overrated.

He's sure he can explain that to Leon, too.

**Author's Note:**

> "Perfection is overrated," or: how an 8-month old fic finally sees the light of day.


End file.
